Alan Stivell

Pity that I were not like the raven
That could fly to Una on the hill,
Or that I were a sunbeam shining on the eddying stream,
With my love everywhere I could be.

Na cheithre Una, na cheithre Aine, na cheithre Maire's na cheithre Nora,
Na cheithre mnà ba cheithre breàcha i gceire gcearda na Fodhla,
Na cheithre càirni a chuaidh 's na cheithre clara, na cheithre clà racha conra.
Ach na cheithre gràin ar na cheithre mnà nach dtug na cheithre grà go na
Cheithre poga,

Pity...

A Una Bhàn nach grànna an lui tà ort,
Do cheann le fàna i mearc na milte corp.
Ach mora dcuga thù fàir orm, a phlandoig bhi riamh gan locht
Ni dhiocfaidh mise 'd-aras go bràth ach an oiche 'nocht.

Na kaer eo karout 'noc'h, muiàñ karet
Una bhàn, Anna ar wenn
Un de' e oamp,
Nemet ur galon
Un de' e oamp Love, just love

The four Unas, the four Annas, the four Mairies, the four Noras,
The four women finest by fourfold in the four quarters of Fodhla,
The four nails driven into the four coffin boards, the four oak coffins;
But my fourfold hate on the four women who gave not their,
Love with their kisses four.

Fair Una how ugly now is your bed,
Your head lying among hosts of the dead.
Unless you come to me, even as a ghost, O flower without blemish
Never again will I come to visit you after this night.

Il est si beau de t'aimer, aimée,
Belle Una, claire Anna,
Nous fûmes un jour
Qu'un seul coeur,
Un jour nous ne fûmes
Qu'Amour